


The smell of John...

by HighlyFunctioning



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Asleep Sherlock, Confused John, Cute Sherlock, Cute!Sherlock - Freeform, Fluff, John's Jumpers, Johnlock - Freeform, Jumpers, M/M, Smell of John, confused!john, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 19:21:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighlyFunctioning/pseuds/HighlyFunctioning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Second fanfic, first day :) feeling quite good after the shock of people actually reading my first fic :) thanks to all you babes out there. I'm not going to say babes again, that's weird, i shall think of a pet name for you at some point :) </p><p>So anyway this fanfic is slightly longer that the other one and basically:</p><p>John cant find his jumper anywhere...</p><p>Comments welcome :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The smell of John...

All bloody morning John had been searching for his jumper. But Sherlock apparently didn't know that, because Sherlock was pretending to be asleep. Not that John could tell the difference, he had never so much as placed a toe inside of his flatmates room... for Sherlock it was a completely normal to strut into Johns room, his long slender legs stepping among the littering of clothing, and retrieve what ever his heart desired. John had given up trying to achieve any level of privacy, if Sherlock wanted his laptop, he would find it and take it. Nothing he could do. He put a password on it once, but this was Sherlock for christs sake, he could glance at the doctor and instantly know what the short man had used. So he had given up. But Sherlock’s attitude would not affect Johns understanding that Sherlock required privacy, he was also slightly terrified to find out what was on the other side of that seemingly boring door. Perhaps a torture chamber hidden behind a bookshelf, or the entire room would be piled high with folders, with a dormant nuclear bomb sat amongst his pillows. John would think his room mate was a vampire, if not for the soft breathing he could hear if he really focused, and held his breath.

 

This, however, had gone on long enough, the entire of baker street had been turned upside down, pillows had covered the floor mere seconds ago, but as the neat-freak that lived inside his head itched away at his scalp, everything was returned to its normal place. He had quite literally checked everywhere. He had even gone down to Mrs Hudson to check if she had picked it up by mistake when she was running yet another one of Sherlock’s errands, everyone swore that that man could get the devil to do his bidding if he complained enough....

 

So there he was sat on the newly arranged sofa in the living room of 221b, pondering how he could of checked every room in the flat and not found his jumper, well, that was to say everyone room in the flats, expect Sherlock's. He pondered for a moment, weighing up the options which had formed in his head. After all what harm could come from briefly venturing into the detectives room? He would wait until Sherlock left, but he didn’t have a case today, so it was very unlikely he would leave the flat, and even if he waited until he had left, he was Sherlock, he would probably find a single hair and work out the entire thing. He would just have to do it.

 

He rose from the chair and took the seemingly endless walk along the short corridor. What was he so worried about anyway? He paused outside of the door for a moment, his ears straining to pick up even the faintest whisper, he was greeted by a quiet long breath. His hand reached for the door knob, what if he had a lock? What if he had an alarm? His brain was being stupid now. The handle felt cold in his hand as he slid it carefully anticlockwise, and eased it open. What he was greeted with was... surprisingly normal. The walls were a rather dull shade of brown, with a lighter brown wall paper on the other walls. His flatmate was lying on a double bed, which was centralised in the rather large yet dull room. His eyes feel upon Sherlock, and John had to stifle a giggle, his flat mates mouth hung open as he slept, and Johns mind laughed at the fact such an attractive man could look so strange whilst sleeping... John stopped himself, now was not a good time to start thinking about how attractive his flat mate was, his memorizing cheek bones, his perfectly slender figure... but he was not gay. Definitely not.

 

His eyes scanned the room, no sign of it. As he was leaving he stole a final glance at his flatmate, and something caught his eyes. He silently strode around the bed, until he has facing his flatmate, and stared in disbelief, encased under the arm of the consulting detective was John’s jumper... he stood simply staring for a moment, before it suddenly dawned on him that he was being stared back at, a pair of sleepy, innocent eyes were locked onto him. Sherlock nuzzled his chin into the jumper and looked as though he was going to close his eyes once more. “Sherlock...” Johns voice was soft yet confused. It was almost as though when Sherlock had been staring at him before, he had thought he was imagining him, because when the doctor had uttered a single syllable the detective had sat bolt upright, clinging to the jumper as though he was a small child gripping onto a teddy. “Sherlock...” John uttered once more, still confused. He flicked on the light switch which he had just noticed on the wall beside Sherlock’s bed. Sherlock apparently noticed that he was clinging onto the jumper for dear life, and threw it at the doctor, and seemed to coil into himself with embarrassment, his slender frame compacted more. At some point John had instinctively perched himself on the side of Sherlock’s bed, he lay a hand upon Sherlock’s back and the detective slowly unfolded himself...

 

“what were you doing with my jumper” John asked, expecting an answer which was linked to some random experiment. Sherlock replied by muttering something into the bed sheets he had wrapped himself into. John carefully pulled the sheets away from his clawing grip, and repeated his question. Sherlock knew that although John was not amazing at deducting, he could tell if Sherlock was lying... “It smells of you...” a look of embarrassment grew on his face, his cheeks turning a bright shade of pink. Johns mouth opened slightly, his brain trying to process what he had been told, trying to form some words, but before he has a chance the detective had started speaking again...

 

“You smell comforting John, and so do your jumpers.... I wait until you have worn one and attempt to take it the same evening. They smell of you John, and you smell comforting and warm and just...” The detective swung his arms around, annoyed that he couldn’t explain himself. “I cant sleep without them John! I don’t know why. I've tried so many times and... I JUST CANT!”. John smiled brightly “why didn’t you say...?” Sherlock looked briefly confused, before responding “ I was worried you would think it was weird... that I was weird...” Johns smile grew and a smile appeared on Sherlock’s face as the smaller man wrapped his arms around him. His sandy blonde hair tickling his face. They sat like that for some time, before the both reluctantly let go. Lestrade needed to see Sherlock in a meeting, and he had changed and left.

 

When Sherlock returned to the flat there was a note on the table, it was from John, stating that he has nipped out, and that he had left Sherlock something in his bedroom. Sherlock nervously wandered to his room, and opened the door slowly. Upon his now neatly made bed was a folded jumper, he walked over to it and brought it to his chest, breathing in the smell of familiarity, of comfort, of John...


End file.
